Riviera
by It'sPastMyBedtime
Summary: After relocating to the French Riviera, aspiring writer Edward Mason becomes enthralled by the enigmatic Doctor Cullen and his ever glamorous and charming wife. Spellbound, he seeks to write about them however as he becomes increasingly involved in the couple's extravagant life and circle of friends he learns that they harbour dark secrets and a surprising past.
1. Chapter 1

**After relocating to the French Riviera, aspiring writer Edward Mason becomes enthralled by the enigmatic Doctor Cullen and his ever glamorous and charming wife. Spellbound, he seeks to write about them however as he becomes increasingly involved in the couple's extravagant life and circle of friends he learns that they harbour dark secrets and a surprising past.**

 **Prologue**

The match snapped, then sizzled, and Edward woke fast. He heard the woman inhale as she took a long pull on her cigarette. Her lips clung to the filter, so he knew she was still wearing lipstick. She'd been up all night.

She sat in the armchair next to his bed, Edward kept sleep breathing. He risked a look under his eyelashes.

She was still wearing her red gown, ankles crossed, head flung back. One arm in the air, elbow bent, cigarette glowing in her fingertips. Diamond jewellery glistened in the darkness. Syrupy waves tumbled past her shoulders.

He wanted to offer her comfort, to string together wise words just so he could hear her elegant laughter one more time. But he knew nothing would work, he wasn't the one that she wanted. Besides, all that was on his mind was Isabella and the suspense was killing him.

He didn't move, but could tell she knew he was awake. He kept on sleep breathing, she kept on pretending not to notice.

They lay like this for hours, until the seagulls began to cry, sadder than a funeral. Carlisle would send a car for them in the morning, if he was still alive.

 **June 1926**

The atmosphere of Cannes was everything Edward Mason had hoped it would be. Soft and hazy. The sea glittered with the intensity of a diamond and, as he left harbour he felt a rush of happiness and excitement. This would be the perfect place for him to write his novel.

Chicago was tired, the people were predictable and, as a general rule, boring. They were awfully bland compared to the carnival of excitement before his eyes. The world's upper-class had created a renowned atmosphere of glitz and glamour in Cannes and it was easily the most fashionable city in Europe. The banking career Chicago and his father offered him seemed dismal, Edward was certain he was destined for better things.

Smoking his cigarette Edward smiled boyishly at every gorgeous woman he passed on his route to the hotel, basking in a new found confidence his travels had given him. Here he was able to reinvent himself. He imagined what people would be saying as he walked past, 'Look! That's Edward Mason, the _writer_.'

A large, proud rose coloured hotel soon stood before him. The hotel was nestled happily amongst the shade of palm trees and faced a long stretch of the Riviera's famous shoreline.

 _'_ _The finest establishment in Cannes!'_ A friend of his father's had boasted, and Lord behold he had been right. The lavish building before him was the epitome of class and glamour. Edward's greedy eyes drank up the sight and right on queue none other than Rosalie Hale _the movie star_ was escorted from her cadillac and into the hotel before him.

Settling into his temporary 'hotel room' home would be an easy task, Edward had brought very little belongings with him on his trip, on the premise that he could simply buy himself suitable attire whilst there. Attire that would be suitable to impress French socialites.

Besides, his typewriter was all he needed.

...

In the centre of the cool hotel lobby was easily the most eccentric couple Edward had ever seen. The young woman's slender body was adorned in slinky black fabric, the dress barely reached her knees, and a hat flopped over her angled face. He thought she resembled a fairy. Her partner was just as finely dressed, though his face was hidden as the young women roughly kissed him. Edward was transfixed - nobody would dare make such a public display of affection back home.

'Well, hi there stranger,' the woman giggled shyly, 'you look a little lost.'

Edward covered his mouth, attempting to disguise his blush. 'Gosh, no. I'm sorry, I'm just exploring.'

The man looked him up and down, 'New here?'

Nodding sheepishly Edward stepped forward, 'Yes, actually. I've recently relocated here from Chicago. I'm staying at the hotel until I can find somewhere more permanent.' A white lie. 'I'm Edward Mason.'

'Jasper. Whitlock.' Shaking his hand, the man visibly relaxed slightly, 'It's a pleasure. This is my wife, Alice.'

'You're here all alone?' His wife cooed, 'You must come along to rooftop drinks soon, you're a handsome young man, I'm sure our friends would love to meet you, especially Rosalie,' she smirked.

Feeling almost as awkward as he felt awestruck he kissed Alice's hand. "Rosalie ..Hale?'

'Of course!' She took a lit cigarette from her husband. 'Are you going to come to Doctor Cullen's villa tonight? Oh, you absolutely must join us! They throw the most wonderful parties, anybody who matters will be there!'

'Oh..I'm not so sure.'

'Please come, Edward.' Alice smiled, grasping Jasper's arm, 'You'll adore Doctor and Mrs Cullen and I'd just love to introduce you to our friends.'Edward chucked gently, 'I suppose I could swing by.'


	2. Chapter 2

If Edward had thought the hotel was wonderful, then Doctor Cullen's villa was positively magnificent. The dusk sunlight lit the white walls with a radiant glow that Edward thought made the villa look almost ethereal. It's balcony rails were adorned with vibrant flowers and a loud yet soft jazz played from within. Armed with an exuberance only achieved with youth, Edward joined the kaleidoscopic carnival of European socialites decorating the lawn, shining with a rush of excitement.

The house staff were more than accommodating, and Edward gulped three scotches in an attempt to settle his nerves. Back home in Chicago everybody knew his name. He'd simply need introduce himself as Edward _Mason_ to gain access to the most exclusive of events, his father's business had boomed following the war and Edward loved to reap the benefits of this.

It had only been the past year that Edward Mason Junior had grown tired of living in his father's shadow, he needed to know he could create success on his own. He mingled halfheartedly with the guests, secretly searching for the familiar faces of the Whitlocks.

It was during this search that he found himself on the large balcony, alone with the most attractive woman he'd ever seen. She was pretty. Real pretty. With her black filmy dress, she was easily the most glamorous woman at the party. She reminded Edward of a movie star, like Greta Garbo. And although she wore an expression of vague boredom, her red lips smiled at the corners. Even in the dark her eyes glowed, fierce emeralds.

'I haven't seen you around before.' French. Her voice was quiet but rich, she sounded playful.

Edward smiled boyishly, running a hand through his waves. 'Edward Mason. Well, I've only recently arrived here in France. I was told Doctor and Mrs Cullen held the best parties.'

Laughing gloriously now, she took a drag of her cigarette, 'You shouldn't flatter me that way, darling.'

'You're Mrs Cullen?' Overly relaxed thanks to many scotches he kissed the women on the cheek, inwardly flinching at his embarrassing eagerness.

'Call me Esmé, _mon cherie._ It's a pleasure.'

The two made small talk for some time, Mrs Cullen was surprisingly easy to talk to and incredibly charming. She introduced him to a range of socialites and in return Edward entertained her with stories of Chicago. She invited him out on the couple's boat the next day, promising to introduce him to her friend in publishing.

A greatly handsome man approached interrupted their conversation with a possessive arm around his wife's waste.

 _'_ Carlisle dear, this is Edward Mason. He's a writer.'

'A writer, eh?' Carlisle looked impressed and Edward felt a stab of pride as they shook hands firmly. He was so sure of himself, and unlike Edward could clearly handle his scotch.

Tall. Blonde. Broad. Doctor Cullen had what Edward's father would call _easy charm_ , he was the type of man that never waited in line at a restaurant.

 _'_ It's an honour to meet you, young man.' He laughed, gazing lovingly at Esmé and winking at Edward, 'Anybody who can keep my wife out of trouble for a few hours is somebody I'd love to meet.'

…

The night passed in the blink of an eye and Edward found himself in the drawing room of the villa, engaged in conversation of the recent war. Whilst Jasper Whitlock told stories of his time on the frontline, Doctor Cullen admitted to making his fortune whilst treating wealthy soldiers in Paris. This was where he met his wife, Esmé. Edward felt inadequate for being unable to join this conversation, wishing he could've fought alongside these men.

'This war talk is terribly depressing. Let's dance!' Esmé pulled on her husbands arm. And then, realising she didn't have his attention. 'It's so warm tonight. Let's all go skinny dipping. Everybody would just love to see how swell you are at diving!' The mischievous glint in her eye was endearing, and the men surrounding her stared dumbstruck. Now she had the attention of everybody in earshot, though the woman was only interested in her husband.

'Ah, Essie.' He laughed with fullness, kissing her. 'You're killing me, darling.' He whispered something in her ear and she smiled slyly. He'd never seen a couple so infatuated.

'If you'll excuse me, I think another scotch beckons.'

In a drunken stumble, Edward found himself in the garden rather than the kitchen. Outside the air was cool and clean. Crickets hummed gently, creating a certain air of romance and calmness. As Edward lit his cigarette, his eyes were drawn to the most poetic sight he'd ever seen.

Small, brunette, slender. The young women looked oh so different from the others in the house, all legs and lips and doe eyes. Edward smiled inside as she sat like a fairy on the edge of the pool, legs dangled, utterly submerged in her copy of _Jane Eyre_.

'Aren't you enjoying the party?'

Startled, she looked up for her book in an instant. Inside Edward hated himself for disturbing her trance.

Brown eyes took him in, and the woman smiled shyly. 'I'm not really that kind of girl,' Her accent was familiar, American.

'But everybody loves a good party, surely?' he teased.

She laughed, a gentle blush forming over her cheeks. 'We never have parties like the back home. Doctor Cullen is my uncle, I'm staying here for the summer. Sadly, there's only so much of my uncle and his wife kissing that one can take.' and, as if realising her misery, 'You should come by to play bridge someday.'

A silence fell round the two, Edward cursed himself as he racked his drunken mind for conversation.

'I've yet to read _Jane Eyre_.'

The young women gently bit her lip, 'Do you read?' "

Very much so. I'm actually reading Hemmingway at the moment, he's a new writer but I find his work most agreeable.'

"Perhaps I should try him sometime.' Her eyes lingered on his for a moment before she arose quickly. 'Anyhow, I should really socialise some more. Carlisle will only make fun of me if I don't.'

'Wait!' He ran a hand through copper waves. 'I, uh, I didn't get your name?'

She was grinning wildly now, brown eyes sparking.'I know. I guess you'll have to come back soon to get it.'

And with that she was gone, silky dress fluttering around her thighs, shoes in one hand and _Jane Eyre_ in the other.

Edward couldn't seem to get that shy grin out of his mind.


End file.
